http://smokytalksbooks.wordpress.com --a friend and I make comments
http://writewordsarline@blogspot.com - some bits on dialogue
http://tarotbycher@blogspot.com -- perhaps to amuse of learn
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Saturday's chapter - The Warrior of Bast
This is the third chapter of the story and so up for grabs are 3 print books that I have with Vanilla Heart. The Warrior of Bast, Healwoman - Dark Moon and Mistress of the Moons.
Chapter Three
Tira opened her eyes and stifled a gasp. Where was she? The surface beneath her was softened by a thin pad. She turned her head and bumped her temple against a hard surface. Some kind of headrest prevented her from appraising her vicinity. The substitute for a pillow wasn‘t very comfortable. The cover felt like linen rather than the thin cotton sheet she used. She raised herself to a sitting position and the sheet slid to her waist. Light streamed through a series of openings set high on one of the white plastered walls.
Her heart fluttered in a series of rapid beats. Think. Had she been kidnapped and sold as some kind of sex slave? She drew a deep breath. Why did nothing smell familiar? She was Tira. Tears trickled down her cheeks. Someone had died. Why couldn‘t she remember who had betrayed her?
Tira wiped her face on a corner of the sheet. With that word memories prickled with the same sensation in her head as when an arm or leg woke after falling asleep.
If you could go to ancient Egypt tonight even if the Two Lands is not the one you’ve studied, would you go?
She had agreed. Had she somehow been transported to another Egypt? So far she‘d seen nothing to prove or disprove the theory. The bed and the headrest had been pictured in books she‘d read about the ancient land of the pharaohs.
Now what? She couldn‘t remain in bed and she definitely couldn‘t leave this room in the nude. Clothing was her first objective. She slid from the narrow cot and nearly fell. The bed stood on a wide platform. Tira visually explored the room and noticed a stack of near-white cloth on a backless bench. She wrapped the sheet around herself and crossed the room.
On a low table she found a pottery pitcher and a bowl. She dipped a cloth taken from the rim of the bowl into the water and washed. The heated air dried her skin.
As she studied the bench she noticed the legs were shaped like the feet of a feline. She drew a deep breath. She had arrived in ancient Egypt. One by one she lifted the pieces of cloth from the bench and studied them. Get dressed and learn where you are and why you‘re here.
After several attempts she managed to clothe herself. One strip formed a breast band. A second, she used as a loincloth. The third was a wraparound short skirt rather like a kilt. A leather belt held a knife and a pouch containing a black substance she decided was kohl. Since she had no idea how to apply the stuff she decided to pass.
She looked for shoes and found sandals. She sat on the bench and slipped a foot beneath the leather straps. She drew the shin guards up her leg and fastened the leather ties. Surprisingly they fit. The leather soles didn‘t slip on the stone floor when she performed a series of warm-up exercises.
The beaded curtains in the doorway rattled. Tira slid into an attack position. Two elderly women entered the room. Tira stared. Were they the ones who had sheltered her for a time? They looked similar.
One of the women wore the same clothes as Tira. Her graying hair was cropped short like Tira‘s but the woman‘s didn‘t curl.
The second woman‘s hair was dark and cut shoulder length. Was it a wig? The woman‘s ankle-length sheath bared her breasts. A collar necklace covered her upper chest.
When Tira tried to talk about the world she‘d left the words wouldn‘t form.
The only knowledge you can take with you is what will fit into the time you reach except for your fighting skills. You will be unable to speak of this world or of modern conveniences.
She glided toward the women. If they proved to be a threat she would attack.
―Welcome to the Two Lands,‖ the older of the two said. ―I am the chief priestess of this temple of the goddess Bast, protector of women and children.‖ A cat with a cream-colored coat wove a path around her legs.
Bast. She had read about the goddess, one of the minor ones in the ancient Egypt of her world. Was Bast a major player in this time and place? What other changes would she find? She swallowed a gasp. How odd that she understood the language. ―My name is Tira.‖ She could speak it as well. She crouched and allowed the feline to sniff her hand.
The priestess smiled. ―Come and join us for a meal. We will tell you why you are with us. You are one of the awaited ones. There is a task the goddess has set for you.‖ She turned to her companion. ―Do you have the amulet that marks her as a warrior of Bast?‖
―I do.‖ The other woman smiled. ―I am the head of the warriors of this temple. Do you willingly accept your task?‖
Even if you must remain for all your days.
Again she heard part of what the elderly women of the brownstone had asked. She was here and there was no possible return. ―I do.‖ She met the woman‘s gaze. ―What if I fail?‖
The priestess shuddered. ―There will be imprisonment or death.‖
Tira swallowed. But she would have found the same future in her own world. ―I won‘t fail.‖ She made the vow aloud and silently.
The warrior held a chain of silver links with a large silver medallion hanging from the center link. Tira studied the piece. A cat formed from smoky blue-gray gems formed the center of the circle. Above the image were lapis hieroglyphics. Tira read them. ―Chosen of Bast.‖ She bent her knees so the shorter woman could slip the chain over her head.
―Where in the Two Lands am I?‖
―In the nome of Mero.‖
Tira pictured a map of the Nile and didn‘t recognize the name. Was she in the north or the south? ―Where exactly is this nome?‖
―Near the first cataract,‖ the chief priestess said.
In the south, Tira thought.
―Come.‖
Tira followed the women along a corridor. The wall on the left was higher than the one on the right. Did the left wall form the rear of the temple?
They entered a large room where ornate columns braced the roof and allowed a view of the garden. Backless stools were arranged in clusters. Women dressed like the chief priestess sat near small tables.
The priestess chose seats in a secluded niche. ―Sit. Food will be brought.‖
Before long, women carried plates and trays of food to the table. Tira selected from a variety of dishes, some she recognized and some she didn‘t. There were lentils and chickpeas, beef and some type of fowl, a variety of lettuces, onions both cooked and raw, and cheese. Wine and beer were offered. Tira accepted beer. She sipped the bitter brew and put the cup down. The alcohol content of the beverage was more than the kind she knew. She needed food to counter the effect of the alcohol. Once she finished the food on her plate honey-sweetened dates appeared.
She swallowed the last of the beer and looked from one woman to the other. ―What would you have me do?‖
―You are our hope,‖ the priestess said. ―With the help of the goddess you were brought from a far land to this troubled place. The invaders came with their horses and chariots. Like a plague of locusts they swept through the land leaving destruction behind. Three treasures, gifts from the major gods, were removed from the pharaoh‘s house. Before those who took the symbols of the role were able to report their location they were killed. Their deaths took place in the Valley of the Pharaohs. Thus the flail, the crook and the double crown were lost.‖
The warrior took up the tale. ―Twenty years ago the invaders were driven from the land. The pharaoh and his sons were killed. We have sought the symbols and have unearthed a clue as to where they were hidden. At present the land is divided and the nomarchs vie for the rule. Your quest will help us establish a new dynasty with ties to the beginning.‖
Tira looked up. ―How can this be done?‖
―Though the pharaoh and his sons reside in the afterworld one woman of his house remained alive. She fled the estate and vanished in the desert. Word came that she gave birth to a daughter. That child, now a young woman, can trace her lineage to the first dynasty. The man who weds her will sit on the pharaoh‘s chair.‖
―Where will I find her?‖ Tira asked. ―How will I know her?‖
―She is not your quest. When the time is right she will be revealed.‖ The priestess leaned forward. ―Your quest is to find the hidden symbols. When you leave the temple, seek the compound of the nomarch of Mero. Among his scrolls I believe you will find information to aid your search. During the rebellion against the invaders he carried many scrolls from the temple of Toth. When you reach the town near his estate you will meet a warrior of Horu, the god of the skies. He will join you in the search.‖
Tira frowned. ―How will I identify this companion?‖
―He will wear an amulet marking him as Horu‘s choice.‖
Tira closed her eyes. ―Can you tell me more about these symbols?‖
The priestess rose. She crossed the room and entered an alcove. A short time later she returned with a small scroll. After unrolling the papyrus she showed Tira the pictured objects. Tira studied them. Beneath each of the symbols she saw another picture. There was a cat, an ankh and a hawk.
The priestess rolled the scroll and tied it with a strip of linen. ―Take this with you to help in your quest. Other clues will be found.‖
Tira had seen pictures of the flail, the crook and the double crown in books. In the images on the small scroll she noticed small differences from the ones she remembered but she thought she would recognize the objects when she found them. She accepted the scroll. ―How do I find this nomarch and his compound?‖
―You will be shown a road.‖ The priestess leaned forward. ―Be wary. Ramis of Mero is no friend of the goddess. He is an ambitious man and wishes to see his eldest son named pharaoh. Though Mero sits at the gateway to trade with the dark lands, Ramis wants more wealth. With his son as pharaoh he will become the power behind the chair. As vizier he will gain power. To achieve his goals he has allied with the priests of Aken Re, the abomination.‖
―If he is the enemy why will he allow me into his house?‖ Was the quest for the symbols a true one? Did the priestess want her to spy on the nomarch and the priests?
The warrior smiled. ―When he sees your amulet he will offer his help. He will act like a friend. He plays a double game and wishes a sandal in each camp. He may try to learn what you know. He might decide to give you to the priests. Do not trust him. Learn what you need and depart as soon as you have the knowledge.‖
The chief priestess nodded. ―You are a woman who will remind him of a past he chooses to ignore. His ancestors were slaves from Nubia who won their freedom and through marriage rose to power. You are also unlike the women on his court for you will not bear to be confined and controlled.‖
Tira swallowed. She had known men with the same nature as the nomarch and she hadn‘t liked them. ―How far must I travel to find this compound?‖ Another thought arose. She had never ridden a horse. Driving a chariot was beyond her imagination.
―You will be guided to a path along the river. If you walk north you will reach the town where traders come and workers live. Anyone you meet can direct you to the nomarch‘s compound. You should be there by dark.‖
Tira rose. ―I‘ll leave now.‖
The priestess clasped Tira‘s hand. ―May the spirit of Bast guide and guard you.‖
Tira paused. ―When I have these objects should I return here?‖
―The goddess Bast and the god Horu will guide you. There are other temples to the goddess.‖
The warrior beckoned. Tira followed her down the hall. The older woman slipped into one of the rooms along the hall. She returned and handed Tira a heavy pouch and a bundle she could fasten on her back. ―A blanket and five changes of clothes. Coins for the journey.‖ She strode along the hall.
Tira pushed the small scroll into the bundle and fit her arms through the straps. The warrior opened a door into what Tira believed was the main temple. Drawing a deep breath she entered, halted and stared. A huge mural on the back wall showed the goddess surrounded by a variety of felines. One of the views showed Bast as a warrior, one within a circle of children and another of her offering the crook to a man and a necklace to a woman.
The beauty of the mural held her attention until the warrior touched her arm. ―Come.‖
They strode along a walk with plinths on either side leading to an open doorway. The highest pair flanked the mural. On each pillar an image of a cat stood. Some were created from preserved skins, some modeled from clay and others carved from wood, semi-precious stones and various rocks. Had there been any temple like this in the Egypt she had studied? She couldn‘t remember reading of one.
One of the statues appeared to be carved from a smoky gray stone. As Tira passed, the cat stretched, yawned and leaped to the ground. Tira knelt so the feline could smell her hand.
The cat nipped the skin between Tira‘s thumb and fingers. A shock of awareness swept through her body. Truly she had been chosen by this feline as a companion. As Tira rose the cat rubbed her legs. Tira lifted the feline into her arms.
The warrior laughed. ―Bast Ka has chosen to become your spirit guardian. She will go with you.‖
A rumbling purr vibrated against her chest. Bast Ka leaped to the ground and padded to the temple entrance where pillars carved into likenesses of cats flanked the rectangular doorway.
Tira followed. Though she would have loved to remain and explore the temple an urgency to be on the way filled her. She would return another time. This was her world until death claimed her.
That thought remained as she trailed Bast Ka from the temple. Occasionally the cat turned and stared at Tira. Beyond the entrance they passed walled enclosures where lions, leopards, cheetahs and a tri-colored breed she had never seen roamed. The huge cats moved toward the low wall. Bast Ka halted and yowled. The large felines retreated.
The warrior waited at the end of the walk. ―This is your road.‖ She pointed to a path of packed earth. ―Good fortune to you. May we meet again in this time and place. If not, surely in the afterworld. Remember all we have told you. I leave you now. Good hunting.‖
―I‘ll do my best.‖ Tira set off along the path. How much knowledge did she have of this new world? The spoken language was hers. She recognized and seemed to understand the things the priestess and warrior had told her. She knew what most of the foods had been and she had easily figured how to dress.
Wish I had a car. She could think the words but when she tried to utter them she couldn‘t. She had been warned that would happen. She could bring nothing from the future of the other world into this one.
The sun moved toward mid-afternoon. To the right she saw the rushing water of the river. The sound of the cataracts seemed distant. On the other bank she saw granite cliffs. Along the edge of the path reeds grew.
Would she encounter crocodiles or other unfriendly creatures? She edged closer to the cliffs. She was alone but this wasn‘t unusual. She seldom allowed others to cross the barriers she had erected. Her sister had been close but Luci had cared only about drugs and escape. In this time and place Tira regretted her sister‘s death and the loss of a life poorly spent. Bast Ka purred. The sound brought comfort.
As she continued to walk, the sun sunk lower in the west. She wondered how far she had walked since leaving the temple. One thing she discovered was how much easier walking on dirt was than the concrete sidewalks she had known.
As the sunset flared in brilliant colors the river turned red and orange. When the light faded the water darkened. Tira smiled. She was almost where she had dreamed of being. Here was a different Egypt and a different time but she felt as if she belonged.
A crescent moon edged above the horizon. Stars appeared, more than she‘d ever seen. There were no city lights to dull the night sky.
The cliffs on her left were further from the river. Ahead she saw the outline of buildings. Her stomach rumbled. Perhaps there would be a place where she could buy a meal and find somewhere to sleep. Were there restaurants and hotels in this land? She hoped to find someone to ask. Though she was wary of speaking to strangers perhaps the amulet would protect her.
Bast Ka jumped from her arms. The cat yowled and took the lead. Tira trotted after the feline. Where were they going and what would they find?
Chapter Three
Tira opened her eyes and stifled a gasp. Where was she? The surface beneath her was softened by a thin pad. She turned her head and bumped her temple against a hard surface. Some kind of headrest prevented her from appraising her vicinity. The substitute for a pillow wasn‘t very comfortable. The cover felt like linen rather than the thin cotton sheet she used. She raised herself to a sitting position and the sheet slid to her waist. Light streamed through a series of openings set high on one of the white plastered walls.
Her heart fluttered in a series of rapid beats. Think. Had she been kidnapped and sold as some kind of sex slave? She drew a deep breath. Why did nothing smell familiar? She was Tira. Tears trickled down her cheeks. Someone had died. Why couldn‘t she remember who had betrayed her?
Tira wiped her face on a corner of the sheet. With that word memories prickled with the same sensation in her head as when an arm or leg woke after falling asleep.
If you could go to ancient Egypt tonight even if the Two Lands is not the one you’ve studied, would you go?
She had agreed. Had she somehow been transported to another Egypt? So far she‘d seen nothing to prove or disprove the theory. The bed and the headrest had been pictured in books she‘d read about the ancient land of the pharaohs.
Now what? She couldn‘t remain in bed and she definitely couldn‘t leave this room in the nude. Clothing was her first objective. She slid from the narrow cot and nearly fell. The bed stood on a wide platform. Tira visually explored the room and noticed a stack of near-white cloth on a backless bench. She wrapped the sheet around herself and crossed the room.
On a low table she found a pottery pitcher and a bowl. She dipped a cloth taken from the rim of the bowl into the water and washed. The heated air dried her skin.
As she studied the bench she noticed the legs were shaped like the feet of a feline. She drew a deep breath. She had arrived in ancient Egypt. One by one she lifted the pieces of cloth from the bench and studied them. Get dressed and learn where you are and why you‘re here.
After several attempts she managed to clothe herself. One strip formed a breast band. A second, she used as a loincloth. The third was a wraparound short skirt rather like a kilt. A leather belt held a knife and a pouch containing a black substance she decided was kohl. Since she had no idea how to apply the stuff she decided to pass.
She looked for shoes and found sandals. She sat on the bench and slipped a foot beneath the leather straps. She drew the shin guards up her leg and fastened the leather ties. Surprisingly they fit. The leather soles didn‘t slip on the stone floor when she performed a series of warm-up exercises.
The beaded curtains in the doorway rattled. Tira slid into an attack position. Two elderly women entered the room. Tira stared. Were they the ones who had sheltered her for a time? They looked similar.
One of the women wore the same clothes as Tira. Her graying hair was cropped short like Tira‘s but the woman‘s didn‘t curl.
The second woman‘s hair was dark and cut shoulder length. Was it a wig? The woman‘s ankle-length sheath bared her breasts. A collar necklace covered her upper chest.
When Tira tried to talk about the world she‘d left the words wouldn‘t form.
The only knowledge you can take with you is what will fit into the time you reach except for your fighting skills. You will be unable to speak of this world or of modern conveniences.
She glided toward the women. If they proved to be a threat she would attack.
―Welcome to the Two Lands,‖ the older of the two said. ―I am the chief priestess of this temple of the goddess Bast, protector of women and children.‖ A cat with a cream-colored coat wove a path around her legs.
Bast. She had read about the goddess, one of the minor ones in the ancient Egypt of her world. Was Bast a major player in this time and place? What other changes would she find? She swallowed a gasp. How odd that she understood the language. ―My name is Tira.‖ She could speak it as well. She crouched and allowed the feline to sniff her hand.
The priestess smiled. ―Come and join us for a meal. We will tell you why you are with us. You are one of the awaited ones. There is a task the goddess has set for you.‖ She turned to her companion. ―Do you have the amulet that marks her as a warrior of Bast?‖
―I do.‖ The other woman smiled. ―I am the head of the warriors of this temple. Do you willingly accept your task?‖
Even if you must remain for all your days.
Again she heard part of what the elderly women of the brownstone had asked. She was here and there was no possible return. ―I do.‖ She met the woman‘s gaze. ―What if I fail?‖
The priestess shuddered. ―There will be imprisonment or death.‖
Tira swallowed. But she would have found the same future in her own world. ―I won‘t fail.‖ She made the vow aloud and silently.
The warrior held a chain of silver links with a large silver medallion hanging from the center link. Tira studied the piece. A cat formed from smoky blue-gray gems formed the center of the circle. Above the image were lapis hieroglyphics. Tira read them. ―Chosen of Bast.‖ She bent her knees so the shorter woman could slip the chain over her head.
―Where in the Two Lands am I?‖
―In the nome of Mero.‖
Tira pictured a map of the Nile and didn‘t recognize the name. Was she in the north or the south? ―Where exactly is this nome?‖
―Near the first cataract,‖ the chief priestess said.
In the south, Tira thought.
―Come.‖
Tira followed the women along a corridor. The wall on the left was higher than the one on the right. Did the left wall form the rear of the temple?
They entered a large room where ornate columns braced the roof and allowed a view of the garden. Backless stools were arranged in clusters. Women dressed like the chief priestess sat near small tables.
The priestess chose seats in a secluded niche. ―Sit. Food will be brought.‖
Before long, women carried plates and trays of food to the table. Tira selected from a variety of dishes, some she recognized and some she didn‘t. There were lentils and chickpeas, beef and some type of fowl, a variety of lettuces, onions both cooked and raw, and cheese. Wine and beer were offered. Tira accepted beer. She sipped the bitter brew and put the cup down. The alcohol content of the beverage was more than the kind she knew. She needed food to counter the effect of the alcohol. Once she finished the food on her plate honey-sweetened dates appeared.
She swallowed the last of the beer and looked from one woman to the other. ―What would you have me do?‖
―You are our hope,‖ the priestess said. ―With the help of the goddess you were brought from a far land to this troubled place. The invaders came with their horses and chariots. Like a plague of locusts they swept through the land leaving destruction behind. Three treasures, gifts from the major gods, were removed from the pharaoh‘s house. Before those who took the symbols of the role were able to report their location they were killed. Their deaths took place in the Valley of the Pharaohs. Thus the flail, the crook and the double crown were lost.‖
The warrior took up the tale. ―Twenty years ago the invaders were driven from the land. The pharaoh and his sons were killed. We have sought the symbols and have unearthed a clue as to where they were hidden. At present the land is divided and the nomarchs vie for the rule. Your quest will help us establish a new dynasty with ties to the beginning.‖
Tira looked up. ―How can this be done?‖
―Though the pharaoh and his sons reside in the afterworld one woman of his house remained alive. She fled the estate and vanished in the desert. Word came that she gave birth to a daughter. That child, now a young woman, can trace her lineage to the first dynasty. The man who weds her will sit on the pharaoh‘s chair.‖
―Where will I find her?‖ Tira asked. ―How will I know her?‖
―She is not your quest. When the time is right she will be revealed.‖ The priestess leaned forward. ―Your quest is to find the hidden symbols. When you leave the temple, seek the compound of the nomarch of Mero. Among his scrolls I believe you will find information to aid your search. During the rebellion against the invaders he carried many scrolls from the temple of Toth. When you reach the town near his estate you will meet a warrior of Horu, the god of the skies. He will join you in the search.‖
Tira frowned. ―How will I identify this companion?‖
―He will wear an amulet marking him as Horu‘s choice.‖
Tira closed her eyes. ―Can you tell me more about these symbols?‖
The priestess rose. She crossed the room and entered an alcove. A short time later she returned with a small scroll. After unrolling the papyrus she showed Tira the pictured objects. Tira studied them. Beneath each of the symbols she saw another picture. There was a cat, an ankh and a hawk.
The priestess rolled the scroll and tied it with a strip of linen. ―Take this with you to help in your quest. Other clues will be found.‖
Tira had seen pictures of the flail, the crook and the double crown in books. In the images on the small scroll she noticed small differences from the ones she remembered but she thought she would recognize the objects when she found them. She accepted the scroll. ―How do I find this nomarch and his compound?‖
―You will be shown a road.‖ The priestess leaned forward. ―Be wary. Ramis of Mero is no friend of the goddess. He is an ambitious man and wishes to see his eldest son named pharaoh. Though Mero sits at the gateway to trade with the dark lands, Ramis wants more wealth. With his son as pharaoh he will become the power behind the chair. As vizier he will gain power. To achieve his goals he has allied with the priests of Aken Re, the abomination.‖
―If he is the enemy why will he allow me into his house?‖ Was the quest for the symbols a true one? Did the priestess want her to spy on the nomarch and the priests?
The warrior smiled. ―When he sees your amulet he will offer his help. He will act like a friend. He plays a double game and wishes a sandal in each camp. He may try to learn what you know. He might decide to give you to the priests. Do not trust him. Learn what you need and depart as soon as you have the knowledge.‖
The chief priestess nodded. ―You are a woman who will remind him of a past he chooses to ignore. His ancestors were slaves from Nubia who won their freedom and through marriage rose to power. You are also unlike the women on his court for you will not bear to be confined and controlled.‖
Tira swallowed. She had known men with the same nature as the nomarch and she hadn‘t liked them. ―How far must I travel to find this compound?‖ Another thought arose. She had never ridden a horse. Driving a chariot was beyond her imagination.
―You will be guided to a path along the river. If you walk north you will reach the town where traders come and workers live. Anyone you meet can direct you to the nomarch‘s compound. You should be there by dark.‖
Tira rose. ―I‘ll leave now.‖
The priestess clasped Tira‘s hand. ―May the spirit of Bast guide and guard you.‖
Tira paused. ―When I have these objects should I return here?‖
―The goddess Bast and the god Horu will guide you. There are other temples to the goddess.‖
The warrior beckoned. Tira followed her down the hall. The older woman slipped into one of the rooms along the hall. She returned and handed Tira a heavy pouch and a bundle she could fasten on her back. ―A blanket and five changes of clothes. Coins for the journey.‖ She strode along the hall.
Tira pushed the small scroll into the bundle and fit her arms through the straps. The warrior opened a door into what Tira believed was the main temple. Drawing a deep breath she entered, halted and stared. A huge mural on the back wall showed the goddess surrounded by a variety of felines. One of the views showed Bast as a warrior, one within a circle of children and another of her offering the crook to a man and a necklace to a woman.
The beauty of the mural held her attention until the warrior touched her arm. ―Come.‖
They strode along a walk with plinths on either side leading to an open doorway. The highest pair flanked the mural. On each pillar an image of a cat stood. Some were created from preserved skins, some modeled from clay and others carved from wood, semi-precious stones and various rocks. Had there been any temple like this in the Egypt she had studied? She couldn‘t remember reading of one.
One of the statues appeared to be carved from a smoky gray stone. As Tira passed, the cat stretched, yawned and leaped to the ground. Tira knelt so the feline could smell her hand.
The cat nipped the skin between Tira‘s thumb and fingers. A shock of awareness swept through her body. Truly she had been chosen by this feline as a companion. As Tira rose the cat rubbed her legs. Tira lifted the feline into her arms.
The warrior laughed. ―Bast Ka has chosen to become your spirit guardian. She will go with you.‖
A rumbling purr vibrated against her chest. Bast Ka leaped to the ground and padded to the temple entrance where pillars carved into likenesses of cats flanked the rectangular doorway.
Tira followed. Though she would have loved to remain and explore the temple an urgency to be on the way filled her. She would return another time. This was her world until death claimed her.
That thought remained as she trailed Bast Ka from the temple. Occasionally the cat turned and stared at Tira. Beyond the entrance they passed walled enclosures where lions, leopards, cheetahs and a tri-colored breed she had never seen roamed. The huge cats moved toward the low wall. Bast Ka halted and yowled. The large felines retreated.
The warrior waited at the end of the walk. ―This is your road.‖ She pointed to a path of packed earth. ―Good fortune to you. May we meet again in this time and place. If not, surely in the afterworld. Remember all we have told you. I leave you now. Good hunting.‖
―I‘ll do my best.‖ Tira set off along the path. How much knowledge did she have of this new world? The spoken language was hers. She recognized and seemed to understand the things the priestess and warrior had told her. She knew what most of the foods had been and she had easily figured how to dress.
Wish I had a car. She could think the words but when she tried to utter them she couldn‘t. She had been warned that would happen. She could bring nothing from the future of the other world into this one.
The sun moved toward mid-afternoon. To the right she saw the rushing water of the river. The sound of the cataracts seemed distant. On the other bank she saw granite cliffs. Along the edge of the path reeds grew.
Would she encounter crocodiles or other unfriendly creatures? She edged closer to the cliffs. She was alone but this wasn‘t unusual. She seldom allowed others to cross the barriers she had erected. Her sister had been close but Luci had cared only about drugs and escape. In this time and place Tira regretted her sister‘s death and the loss of a life poorly spent. Bast Ka purred. The sound brought comfort.
As she continued to walk, the sun sunk lower in the west. She wondered how far she had walked since leaving the temple. One thing she discovered was how much easier walking on dirt was than the concrete sidewalks she had known.
As the sunset flared in brilliant colors the river turned red and orange. When the light faded the water darkened. Tira smiled. She was almost where she had dreamed of being. Here was a different Egypt and a different time but she felt as if she belonged.
A crescent moon edged above the horizon. Stars appeared, more than she‘d ever seen. There were no city lights to dull the night sky.
The cliffs on her left were further from the river. Ahead she saw the outline of buildings. Her stomach rumbled. Perhaps there would be a place where she could buy a meal and find somewhere to sleep. Were there restaurants and hotels in this land? She hoped to find someone to ask. Though she was wary of speaking to strangers perhaps the amulet would protect her.
Bast Ka jumped from her arms. The cat yowled and took the lead. Tira trotted after the feline. Where were they going and what would they find?
Friday, July 29, 2011
Friday's Writer's Tip - More on Revision - characters
For draft writers, you don't have to do these revisions in order but here's a start. That's looking at your characters to make sure they're fully developed. Characters are what makes a reader want to continue writing. Part of a writer's job is to mane the characters appealing whether they be heros, heroines or villains. Even those characters who have a small role unless they're walk-ons need to have something to draw the reader to them.
For me developing a character means becoming the character. This can sometimes cause people to look at you strangely, especially when you're walking not in your own shoes but those of the character. What are some of the points to consider. This will be an overview today and in weeks to come will look at specifics.
Completeness - this doesn't mean putting in every event in the character's life but in giving the reader enough information to make the character come to life.
Believability -- this means that the character acts in ways that go along with their personalities and not doing things that seem to be out of character.
Consistency - there's nothing more disturbing that a character who constantly shifts from acting one way in a situation and a totally different way in a similar same situation.
Distinctiveness -- this looks at individuality and at what makes your character different from the hundred other characters who may be facing a similar story.
Function in the story -- what is the character's role and does he fulfill it or skirt around the edges. This is particularly important for secondary characters.
Stereotype -- unless you really need a cardboard character in the book making a character look like a cookie-cut one will make the reader yawn.
So during the rewriting phase making characters vivid and real is important.
For me developing a character means becoming the character. This can sometimes cause people to look at you strangely, especially when you're walking not in your own shoes but those of the character. What are some of the points to consider. This will be an overview today and in weeks to come will look at specifics.
Completeness - this doesn't mean putting in every event in the character's life but in giving the reader enough information to make the character come to life.
Believability -- this means that the character acts in ways that go along with their personalities and not doing things that seem to be out of character.
Consistency - there's nothing more disturbing that a character who constantly shifts from acting one way in a situation and a totally different way in a similar same situation.
Distinctiveness -- this looks at individuality and at what makes your character different from the hundred other characters who may be facing a similar story.
Function in the story -- what is the character's role and does he fulfill it or skirt around the edges. This is particularly important for secondary characters.
Stereotype -- unless you really need a cardboard character in the book making a character look like a cookie-cut one will make the reader yawn.
So during the rewriting phase making characters vivid and real is important.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Thursday's Interview - Janice Seagraves
1. What's your genre or do you write in more than one?
I write in various romance genres. My first published book, Windswept Shores is a contemporary erotic romance.
2. Did you choose your genre or did it choose you?
LOL. Good question. Most of my stories are dreams or what my muse sends me in one form or another, so no I don’t really chose my genre.
3. Is there any genre you'd like to try? Or is there one you wouldn't?
My daughter keeps asking me to write a vampire romance with big puppy dog eyes, but since the market is flooded with vampire romance, I’m a little hesitant to write one.
4. What fiction do you read for pleasure?
Paranormal romance, it’s my guilty pleasure.
5. Tell me a bit about yourself and how long you've been writing,
I’ve been writing since I was twenty, but only for about twelve year toward publication.
6. Which of your characters is your favorite?
Seth in my book, Windswept Shores. Once I had his Aussie accent down, he took over. My heroine didn’t know what he’d say next, and to tell you the truth neither did I.
7. Are there villains in your books and how were they created?
The villain in Windswept is a one eyed boar named El Diablo. I don’t have nice little piggies in my book, oh no, what I have is wild meat eating boars. Scary ones too. El Diablo became one eyed after having a go at Megan, the heroine in Windswept; she put one of his eyes out, trying to defend herself.
8. What are you working on now?
I’m working on a Sci-Fi rom series, with aliens from outer space coming to Earth. Their females have all died in their hibernation chamber from radiation poisoning, so they need human females for mates to keep their race from dying out.
9. What's your latest release and how did the idea arrive?
Windswept Shores. I’ve always been interesting in people stranded on a deserted island, using only their wits to survive. I even worked out what they’d need to survive and how they’d do it. I also realized it would make an excellent idea for a romance. In my mind I kept thinking: could two strangers washed up on the same windswept shores survive and could they can they fall in love?
10. Tell me about your latest book and how it came about. Enclose the opening of the book around 400 words.
LOL. I think I just did, so I’ll just post my excerpt.
Excerpt: Breathing hard, she flicked a glance at the teal-colored sea. She'd thought a vacation to the Bahamas would be the perfect getaway, would be a solution to the problems she and Jonathan had faced. She'd been wrong—dead wrong. Tears of grief filled her eyes. The never-ending crash of the waves on the beach and the cries of the seagulls seemed to mock her with the reminder she was utterly alone.
She'd felt like a tiny speck of sand last night when a violent storm had swept across the island. It had made a mess of her meager campsite, which had taken all morning to fix, and had demolished her seaweed SOS sign. She'll have to recreate her SOS. Sighing, Megan trudged toward a pile of kelp. As she got closer, she saw a figure wearing blue jeans and a t-shirt. Her stomach lurched.
Oh, God, it’s another body washed up from the plane wreck. That would be number twelve. As always, she couldn't help but wonder if the next one would be Jonathan. He hadn’t been wearing jeans on the plane, so she knew she’d been spared seeing his corpse this time. Thank God. She approached the body with dread. Tightening her resolve, she knelt. Suddenly the "dead body" coughed and rolled over. With a scream, Megan jumped back. She clutched her chest and pressed a shaking hand to her mouth.
He’s alive!
Biting her lip, she stared down at the still-breathing man. His drenched t-shirt molded against his broad shoulders and well developed upper body. Short, golden brown hair stuck out in all directions.
Megan, get control of yourself. Don’t wet your pants the first time you finally see a living person. She got on her knees, plucked the seaweed from him and wiped the sand from his face. His day-old whiskers scratched her palm. Reddened skin stretched across both cheekbones and over the bridge of his nose. Her thumb caressed his parched full bottom lip.
She patted the side of his face. “Hey, are you okay?” That’s a dumb question. He isn’t okay.
“Hmm?” Gray eyes fluttered open. He stared at her a long moment, frowning slightly. “G’day.”
“Hello there.” She hated the sound of her voice. It sounded rusty, unused.
Abruptly he rolled away from her to heave onto the sand, making a loud, ugly retching noise.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then looked at her. “Sorry, mate, I swallowed too much sea.” His gaze went over her shoulder in the direction of the bonfire which crackled and popped not far from them. “Mite big for a barbie.”
Sitting back on her heels with her hands folded in her lap, Megan followed his gaze, then back to him. “My signal fire.”
“Signal for what?”
“Help.”
His accent intrigued her. Was he English or Australian?
“G’darn,” he looked around, “where the bloody hell am I?”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
You can find Windswept Shores at Pink petal books: http://pinkpetalbooks.com/Windswept-Shores-Janice-Seagraves.html
Janice’s website: http://janiceseagraves.org/
Janice’s main blog: http://ladyjanice.blogspot.com/
I write in various romance genres. My first published book, Windswept Shores is a contemporary erotic romance.
2. Did you choose your genre or did it choose you?
LOL. Good question. Most of my stories are dreams or what my muse sends me in one form or another, so no I don’t really chose my genre.
3. Is there any genre you'd like to try? Or is there one you wouldn't?
My daughter keeps asking me to write a vampire romance with big puppy dog eyes, but since the market is flooded with vampire romance, I’m a little hesitant to write one.
4. What fiction do you read for pleasure?
Paranormal romance, it’s my guilty pleasure.
5. Tell me a bit about yourself and how long you've been writing,
I’ve been writing since I was twenty, but only for about twelve year toward publication.
6. Which of your characters is your favorite?
Seth in my book, Windswept Shores. Once I had his Aussie accent down, he took over. My heroine didn’t know what he’d say next, and to tell you the truth neither did I.
7. Are there villains in your books and how were they created?
The villain in Windswept is a one eyed boar named El Diablo. I don’t have nice little piggies in my book, oh no, what I have is wild meat eating boars. Scary ones too. El Diablo became one eyed after having a go at Megan, the heroine in Windswept; she put one of his eyes out, trying to defend herself.
8. What are you working on now?
I’m working on a Sci-Fi rom series, with aliens from outer space coming to Earth. Their females have all died in their hibernation chamber from radiation poisoning, so they need human females for mates to keep their race from dying out.
9. What's your latest release and how did the idea arrive?
Windswept Shores. I’ve always been interesting in people stranded on a deserted island, using only their wits to survive. I even worked out what they’d need to survive and how they’d do it. I also realized it would make an excellent idea for a romance. In my mind I kept thinking: could two strangers washed up on the same windswept shores survive and could they can they fall in love?
10. Tell me about your latest book and how it came about. Enclose the opening of the book around 400 words.
LOL. I think I just did, so I’ll just post my excerpt.
Excerpt: Breathing hard, she flicked a glance at the teal-colored sea. She'd thought a vacation to the Bahamas would be the perfect getaway, would be a solution to the problems she and Jonathan had faced. She'd been wrong—dead wrong. Tears of grief filled her eyes. The never-ending crash of the waves on the beach and the cries of the seagulls seemed to mock her with the reminder she was utterly alone.
She'd felt like a tiny speck of sand last night when a violent storm had swept across the island. It had made a mess of her meager campsite, which had taken all morning to fix, and had demolished her seaweed SOS sign. She'll have to recreate her SOS. Sighing, Megan trudged toward a pile of kelp. As she got closer, she saw a figure wearing blue jeans and a t-shirt. Her stomach lurched.
Oh, God, it’s another body washed up from the plane wreck. That would be number twelve. As always, she couldn't help but wonder if the next one would be Jonathan. He hadn’t been wearing jeans on the plane, so she knew she’d been spared seeing his corpse this time. Thank God. She approached the body with dread. Tightening her resolve, she knelt. Suddenly the "dead body" coughed and rolled over. With a scream, Megan jumped back. She clutched her chest and pressed a shaking hand to her mouth.
He’s alive!
Biting her lip, she stared down at the still-breathing man. His drenched t-shirt molded against his broad shoulders and well developed upper body. Short, golden brown hair stuck out in all directions.
Megan, get control of yourself. Don’t wet your pants the first time you finally see a living person. She got on her knees, plucked the seaweed from him and wiped the sand from his face. His day-old whiskers scratched her palm. Reddened skin stretched across both cheekbones and over the bridge of his nose. Her thumb caressed his parched full bottom lip.
She patted the side of his face. “Hey, are you okay?” That’s a dumb question. He isn’t okay.
“Hmm?” Gray eyes fluttered open. He stared at her a long moment, frowning slightly. “G’day.”
“Hello there.” She hated the sound of her voice. It sounded rusty, unused.
Abruptly he rolled away from her to heave onto the sand, making a loud, ugly retching noise.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then looked at her. “Sorry, mate, I swallowed too much sea.” His gaze went over her shoulder in the direction of the bonfire which crackled and popped not far from them. “Mite big for a barbie.”
Sitting back on her heels with her hands folded in her lap, Megan followed his gaze, then back to him. “My signal fire.”
“Signal for what?”
“Help.”
His accent intrigued her. Was he English or Australian?
“G’darn,” he looked around, “where the bloody hell am I?”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
You can find Windswept Shores at Pink petal books: http://pinkpetalbooks.com/Windswept-Shores-Janice-Seagraves.html
Janice’s website: http://janiceseagraves.org/
Janice’s main blog: http://ladyjanice.blogspot.com/
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Wednesday - On Plotting - Transitions
Pacing is a good part of moving the plot forward. Just stringing scenes together doesn't make a story. There needs to be a way to get from one place or one time to another. Transitions are a way to do this, but how to do this without bogging the story down. The rhythm of a story is important and rhythm is the pacing. Knowing when to slow down or when to speed up is an art learned and mastered with practice.
Running one scene into another with nothing to connect them makes for a jerky ride when a smooth one will keep the reader going. Transitions are a way to help this process. A transition can be a single sentence that leads the reader to the next scene or it can be a lengthy passage that summarizes time to move the reader and the characters on to the next scene.
So how do you choose what to use as the thread to pull the reader from one scene to the next. You could choose to stay with the same character. This can work but what if you need the next scene through another character's eyes. You need to find perhaps a word, a phrase that can be repeated to start the scene. You could use the same setting. No matter what you choose, finding that thread and using it will pull the reader forward.
Another thing about transitions is often they're telling and we all know the rule, show and don't tell. Sometimes telling is the only way to more the story forward and sometimes it isn't. Finding a balance is important. And knowing if what the reader needs to know deserves a scene or just a bit of summary.
Transitions are important to the pacing of a story. Learning how to use them can help build a better reason for the reader to continue reading.
Running one scene into another with nothing to connect them makes for a jerky ride when a smooth one will keep the reader going. Transitions are a way to help this process. A transition can be a single sentence that leads the reader to the next scene or it can be a lengthy passage that summarizes time to move the reader and the characters on to the next scene.
So how do you choose what to use as the thread to pull the reader from one scene to the next. You could choose to stay with the same character. This can work but what if you need the next scene through another character's eyes. You need to find perhaps a word, a phrase that can be repeated to start the scene. You could use the same setting. No matter what you choose, finding that thread and using it will pull the reader forward.
Another thing about transitions is often they're telling and we all know the rule, show and don't tell. Sometimes telling is the only way to more the story forward and sometimes it isn't. Finding a balance is important. And knowing if what the reader needs to know deserves a scene or just a bit of summary.
Transitions are important to the pacing of a story. Learning how to use them can help build a better reason for the reader to continue reading.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Tuesday;s inspiration -- Creativity and courage
Still looking at The Courage To Create by Rollo May.
Creativity is the process of bringing something new into being. This statement started me thinking. As writers we hear there are only so many plots. So is what we do being creative. Yes. Though there are only so many situations or plots if one looks at matters in this light, each of us brings a unique vision into the story. The words we choose, the actions and reactions of the characters are usually different. There are some writers who may not be creative. Each story they tells follows a pattern and one can tell when the story begins what will happen on page after page. They have found a formula and stick to it. What happens if they step out of the formula and try something new. Readers often turn their backs on them
But back to creativity and what the process involves. One thing is involvement. When writing slipping into the skin of the character, bringing bits of yourself into the story, sometimes when you don't even realize this has happened. Another factor is talent. Putting the words on paper can be taught and the stories that result can be interesting and good but there's always that spark that's missing. Think of the books on your shelf that you read and re-read. The spark between talent and involvement is what makes them special.
So when writing, one has to encounter their demons and their passions and allow parts of this to flavor the characters and spice the words.
Creativity is the process of bringing something new into being. This statement started me thinking. As writers we hear there are only so many plots. So is what we do being creative. Yes. Though there are only so many situations or plots if one looks at matters in this light, each of us brings a unique vision into the story. The words we choose, the actions and reactions of the characters are usually different. There are some writers who may not be creative. Each story they tells follows a pattern and one can tell when the story begins what will happen on page after page. They have found a formula and stick to it. What happens if they step out of the formula and try something new. Readers often turn their backs on them
But back to creativity and what the process involves. One thing is involvement. When writing slipping into the skin of the character, bringing bits of yourself into the story, sometimes when you don't even realize this has happened. Another factor is talent. Putting the words on paper can be taught and the stories that result can be interesting and good but there's always that spark that's missing. Think of the books on your shelf that you read and re-read. The spark between talent and involvement is what makes them special.
So when writing, one has to encounter their demons and their passions and allow parts of this to flavor the characters and spice the words.
Monday, July 25, 2011
25 July - Week behind and week ahead
Last week found me promoting The Henge Betrayed -- Quests. Finally a new release. I also checked the galleys of Moon Pool an group of four novellas, two mine and two Jane's. What I saw looked great and read well. So soon there will be another book for my shelves. Am waiting to hear about two submissions and will check on them soon. I began on The Pharaoh of Horu and have blocked in seven chapters. That's a good start. Looks like the book will end with somewhere between 24 and 30 chapters. Goal is from 72,000 to 80,000 words. I'll be busy for months with this one.
During the coming week I'll be continuing to block out the rest of The Pharaoh of Horu. This is sort of the fun part since it's mainly plot and often I come across changes that will occur as I do the drafts. For me there are usually 4 after the book is roughed out. Plot, Character, Setting and Language.
One is always excited when starting a new work and often wish it could be done yesterday. This is not the lot of the writer. Long books take weeks and months but living with new people and learning how they act and react is a great time.
During the coming week I'll be continuing to block out the rest of The Pharaoh of Horu. This is sort of the fun part since it's mainly plot and often I come across changes that will occur as I do the drafts. For me there are usually 4 after the book is roughed out. Plot, Character, Setting and Language.
One is always excited when starting a new work and often wish it could be done yesterday. This is not the lot of the writer. Long books take weeks and months but living with new people and learning how they act and react is a great time.
Sunday, July 24, 2011
3 Blog visit Sunday
've been interviewed here. http://heatherthurmeier.com/
A bit of this and that http://writinginnovations.blogspot.com/
different concept http://bookbloggers.net/
A bit of this and that http://writinginnovations.blogspot.com/
different concept http://bookbloggers.net/
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Saturday's Chapter - The Warrior of Bast - Chapter 2
Here's the second chapter of The Warrior of Bast - Romantic Times gave this book a 4
Chapter Two
Kashe of Mero sat on his bed in his chamber of the family compound. His head pounded. When he opened his eyes he saw the day had progressed into late afternoon. The bright light made him wince. He recalled the past night‘s celebration for the retirement of the family‘s arms master. Tuten had been Kashe‘s mentor and friend. From the older man he had learned the skills of a warrior. Last night Kashe had finally defeated his mentor with weapons and a capacity for beer.
―Kashe.‖ His father‘s voice stabbed like a dagger.
He groaned and sat up. The drum in his head banged. Leave me alone, he wanted to shout. The nomarch of Mero‘s anger toward his middle son was nothing new. What did he want now?
As second son Kashe had been marked for the priesthood. He had no desire to become a priest. He found satisfaction in his role as a warrior. Yet, duty called for obedience.
If any other temple had been chosen he might have agreed. He had no taste for this newly risen cadre of men seeking to force their god into the circle of goddesses and gods of the Two Lands. Aken Re had been unknown until the invaders had arrived. The army of those men had been defeated so why did their priests linger?
The beaded curtain jangled adding cacophonic notes to the beating in his head.
―Answer me.‖ The nomarch entered and halted at the foot of Kashe‘s bed. ―Rise and present yourself in the central hall. We have guests. Your older brother has news of importance.‖
Kashe groaned. He and Pian were a year apart in age and generations in philosophy. In embracing the new religion Pian had seen an advantage for bringing his ambitions to fruition. He believed the priests would smooth his path to the pharaoh‘s chair.
Kashe sat on the edge of the bed and considered his brother and his plans. Pian was slender and shorter than Kashe. Pian fit the picture of an ideal pharaoh in appearance but not in character. He was cruel and selfish. His sense of justice and honor were lacking. He had no love for Kashe. ―Throwback‖ was the mildest of the names Pian used as needles to jab his younger brother. Kashe had strengths Pian lacked. Every match on the training field had ended with Kashe as the victor.
He rose. He couldn‘t help that in stature and build he resembled the Nubian ancestors his father and older brother chose to forget in their desire for power. If Pian became pharaoh the nomarch of Mero would become his son‘s chief advisor.
―Are you coming?‖ his father asked.
If he said no who knew what would happen. Kashe stretched. ―As soon as I wash and dress.‖ Though he would rather have bathed he would make do here. He glanced in the polished metal mirror. His warrior‘s braid was neat enough. He poured water from a pitcher into a basin and washed. After donning a fresh kilt he fitted wrist and arm bands and selected a collar necklace.
As Kashe left the family sleeping quarters, he braced for the evening meal, the main one of the day. He entered the central hall and hid a desire to duck behind one of the pillars. On the dais his parents sat with a pair of priests. Their gold medallions glittered in the torch light. Pian stood before the men.
As Kashe neared the platform he noticed the robes were embroidered with gold-rayed discs representing their god. The pair were opposites. One was rotund, smiling and fluttering his hands while speaking. The other was lean with a hawk-like nose and a somber expression. Kashe noticed his younger brother lingered in the shadows near the dais. If anything was to be learned Namose would know.
The nomarch gestured. Kashe strode past his sisters who were engaged in a board game and gossip. When Pian‘s voice took on a tone both servile and arrogant Kashe grimaced.
―My lords, Oris Aken Re and Hebu Aken Re, has the daughter been found? I so desire to look in her face and claim her as my chief wife. The honor you offer humbles me.‖
The rotund priest‘s smile broadened. ―As yet we have not found her but the signs point to where she is hidden. When the auspicious hour arrives we will claim her.‖ He turned from Pian to the nomarch. ―You know the price.‖
The nomarch pointed to Kashe. ―My lords of Aken Re, this is Kashe, my middle son. He is skilled with weapons and has a vast knowledge of strategy. He will enter your temple as a priest.‖
Both men studied Kashe. Their gazes moved from his head to his feet. Embarrassment and shame over the avidity of their appraisal made him flush. He was not some piece of livestock or a slave to be purchased. A cauldron of anger bubbled.
Oris Aken Re rubbed his fleshy hands. ―Indeed, he is magnificent.‖
The thin priest‘s eyes narrowed. He addressed his companion in an unfamiliar language. ―Nomarch, he will do nicely,‖ he added.
Kashe wanted to rub his arms to ward off a sudden chill but he wouldn‘t allow the pair to see his distaste and fear. He kept his gaze steady and examined the thin priest. Hebu‘s eyes were serpent-like, dull and flat. Kashe‘s hands formed fists. Though Oris had been named as the chief priest, his companion was the more dangerous of the pair. Another thing became clear. Hebu belonged to the defeated enemy. Kashe had heard that language from a prisoner his father had brought to the compound as a slave.
Oris nodded. ―He will be the perfect battle leader for our men.‖
Pian made a face. ―He will be yours when I become pharaoh.‖
The nomarch shook his head. ―He will be theirs when I decree.‖
Kashe drew a deep breath. ―Father, I beg you to change your mind. I have no desire to serve in any temple. I‘m no scholar and have no knowledge of portents and omens. I‘ve no wish for easy living or in having my days ordered by rituals that allow no freedom.‖ He turned to leave.
His father grasped his arm. ―You will obey. Your sacrifice will undo all your willfulness and the shame your tainted heritage has brought to me. When this new moon completes the cycle you will enter the temple of Aken Re.‖
Though Kashe remained until the evening meal ended, his thoughts centered on finding a way to escape his father‘s command. He had to leave home but where would he go? He listened to his father, older brother and the priests as they made plans. Finding the missing daughter of the last pharaoh was their goal. The priests sought her. So did his father. The one who found her first would control the future of the Two Lands.
As soon as the meal ended Kashe retreated to his sleeping chamber. He had no desire to listen as more schemes were hatched and scenarios developed. He thought of escaping to his favorite beer house but not tonight. The entourage accompanying the priests was quartered on the roof of the house and in the garden. He had no desire to have his departure noted.
Kashe parted the beaded curtain and strode into his chamber. A pile of scrolls stood on the low table. He opened one and crushed the thin papyrus sheet. ―The Ways of Aken Re, the True and Only God.‖
Distaste curved his mouth into a scowl. He wanted to burn the scrolls or slash them to shreds. Not a good idea, he decided. Know your enemy. His mentor had repeated those words until they were engraved in Kashe‘s mind. Though Tuten had meant this advice for contests of arms Kashe believed they applied to his current situation. He would read the scrolls but not tonight. The crescent moon didn‘t provide enough light. Neither would the saucer lamp. He retired to bed for a night‘s sleep filled with dreams he wanted to forget.
For two days Kashe read. The contents of the scrolls disgusted him. The priests of Aken Re had diluted and twisted the teachings of the temples of the Two Lands and skewed them to fit their version of the world. They intended to make their god supreme. There were tales in the scrolls telling how Aken Re had defeated the ancient goddesses and gods of the Two Lands, major and minor and eaten their essences.
He finished the last scroll. What now? Did the rotund priest intend to remain here until the moon ended? The serpent-eyed one had vanished. Most of the entourage was now housed near the river. The departure of the strangers had relieved some of Kashe‘s fears. Not all, for he had no plan to escape the fate his father had decreed.
With a scowl he scooped the scrolls and carried them to the west loggia. There, he dumped them in a heap on one of the low tables. As he neared his chamber he heard two of the slaves speaking. Their gossip made him smile. The remaining priest planned to leave in two or three days.
Kashe returned to his chamber and went to the window. When a large hawk landed on the sill he stepped back. He stared at the avian. The bird made no attempt to attack. Kashe held out his arm. The hawk dropped a scroll and an amulet that landed on the floor with a click. The avian settled on Kashe‘s wrist cuff. He stared into its eyes.
―Horu,‖ Kashe said.
The hawk‘s head bobbed as though in answer. ―Horru.‖
Did hawks have names? ―I‘ll call you Horu Ba, soul of the god of the skies.‖ The bird returned to the window. Kashe picked up the gold amulet. A grin crossed his face as he read the hieroglyphics. ―Chosen of Horu.‖ Here was the perfect reason to refuse his father‘s plans for him. Would the nomarch and Pian accept the calling? Kashe was sure he would learn.
He lifted the scroll and read the words.
Three will come from afar, warrior, ruler and advisor will be joined by three from the Two Lands. United they will drive away those who seek to destroy the land and the people. Success brings prosperity. Failure means death. During the time when each pair works to complete their task they may not join flesh to flesh. Celibate they must remain until their quest ends lest disaster strikes the Two Lands.
He walked from his chamber into the central hall where the family and the priest had gathered for the evening meal. His father gestured. ―You‘ve been hiding in your chamber for days. Have you decided to obey?‖
Kashe shrugged. ―I‘ve been reading the scrolls. They‘re in the loggia. The words left me with no desire to become a priest of Aken Re. What I read sounded like lies.‖
Pian jumped to his feet. ―You will not usurp my place. I will be pharaoh. All the power and wealth of the double crown will be mine.‖
―I have no wish to rule or serve the priests.‖
The nomarch glared. ―You have been promised to them. Your battle skills will be needed to bring the stubborn people of this land to worship the one and only god.‖
Oris Aken Re smiled. ―You cannot resist. You are ours.‖
Kashe sucked in a breath. We‘ll see, he thought. The amulet burned against his chest. He leaned forward and wondered why they didn‘t see the medallion. Was it invisible for a reason? He ate and fled to his room. As he walked down the hall he heard the slap of sandals on the stone and braced for an attack.
―Kashe, you must listen to them,‖ his younger brother said. ―If you disobey Father, the priest will send serpents after you.‖
―Don‘t fret, little brother. Come to my chamber. I‘ve something to show you.‖ Kashe parted the curtains so Namose could enter first. ―This is why I can‘t go.‖ He held out the amulet. ―A hawk brought this to me.‖
Namose studied the gold circle. ―Chosen of Horu.‖ He looked up and gasped. ―At the window.‖
Kashe grinned and extended his arm for the bird. ―Horu Ba, this is Namose, my younger brother.‖ The hawk tilted his head. ―As you see I‘ve been selected by the god of the skies.‖
Namose nodded. ―And you will leave home.‖
―I believe I must.‖
―I want to go with you.‖ The youth‘s dark eyes held a plea. ―If you can‘t serve them I fear Father will send me or one of our sisters to their temple. The priests have a son or daughter from every nome except Mero in their service. They want Father and Pian to follow their orders. Our nome is the largest and richest of all. I don‘t trust the priests. If I must serve a god I would choose Toth, the god of wisdom.‖
Kashe looked away. Since he had no idea where to go, how he could take a boy who had just reached his fifteenth year? ―You must remain here until I can find a safe place. Then I will send for you.‖
―Do you mean that?‖
―Yes.‖ Kashe studied his younger brother. Here was the male member of the family with a strong knowledge of the land. If only their father didn‘t favor Pian. The oldest son was their father‘s favorite. Namose, the youngest, was ignored by the nomarch and favored by their mother.
―When are you going?‖
―Not tonight. I‘m going to a beer house to think.‖ He pushed Namose to the door.
―Better if you don‘t see me leave. If they discover I‘m out you can truthfully say you left me in my chamber.‖
Namose paused outside the curtain. ―Good thinking.‖
Kashe waited until his brother vanished before crossing to the window. He slipped out and crept across the garden to the rear gate. Once beyond the wall, the hawk landed on his wrist guard. Kashe strode to the riverside village. A few mugs of beer and a good fight might be an outlet for the energy coursing through his body.
Chapter Two
Kashe of Mero sat on his bed in his chamber of the family compound. His head pounded. When he opened his eyes he saw the day had progressed into late afternoon. The bright light made him wince. He recalled the past night‘s celebration for the retirement of the family‘s arms master. Tuten had been Kashe‘s mentor and friend. From the older man he had learned the skills of a warrior. Last night Kashe had finally defeated his mentor with weapons and a capacity for beer.
―Kashe.‖ His father‘s voice stabbed like a dagger.
He groaned and sat up. The drum in his head banged. Leave me alone, he wanted to shout. The nomarch of Mero‘s anger toward his middle son was nothing new. What did he want now?
As second son Kashe had been marked for the priesthood. He had no desire to become a priest. He found satisfaction in his role as a warrior. Yet, duty called for obedience.
If any other temple had been chosen he might have agreed. He had no taste for this newly risen cadre of men seeking to force their god into the circle of goddesses and gods of the Two Lands. Aken Re had been unknown until the invaders had arrived. The army of those men had been defeated so why did their priests linger?
The beaded curtain jangled adding cacophonic notes to the beating in his head.
―Answer me.‖ The nomarch entered and halted at the foot of Kashe‘s bed. ―Rise and present yourself in the central hall. We have guests. Your older brother has news of importance.‖
Kashe groaned. He and Pian were a year apart in age and generations in philosophy. In embracing the new religion Pian had seen an advantage for bringing his ambitions to fruition. He believed the priests would smooth his path to the pharaoh‘s chair.
Kashe sat on the edge of the bed and considered his brother and his plans. Pian was slender and shorter than Kashe. Pian fit the picture of an ideal pharaoh in appearance but not in character. He was cruel and selfish. His sense of justice and honor were lacking. He had no love for Kashe. ―Throwback‖ was the mildest of the names Pian used as needles to jab his younger brother. Kashe had strengths Pian lacked. Every match on the training field had ended with Kashe as the victor.
He rose. He couldn‘t help that in stature and build he resembled the Nubian ancestors his father and older brother chose to forget in their desire for power. If Pian became pharaoh the nomarch of Mero would become his son‘s chief advisor.
―Are you coming?‖ his father asked.
If he said no who knew what would happen. Kashe stretched. ―As soon as I wash and dress.‖ Though he would rather have bathed he would make do here. He glanced in the polished metal mirror. His warrior‘s braid was neat enough. He poured water from a pitcher into a basin and washed. After donning a fresh kilt he fitted wrist and arm bands and selected a collar necklace.
As Kashe left the family sleeping quarters, he braced for the evening meal, the main one of the day. He entered the central hall and hid a desire to duck behind one of the pillars. On the dais his parents sat with a pair of priests. Their gold medallions glittered in the torch light. Pian stood before the men.
As Kashe neared the platform he noticed the robes were embroidered with gold-rayed discs representing their god. The pair were opposites. One was rotund, smiling and fluttering his hands while speaking. The other was lean with a hawk-like nose and a somber expression. Kashe noticed his younger brother lingered in the shadows near the dais. If anything was to be learned Namose would know.
The nomarch gestured. Kashe strode past his sisters who were engaged in a board game and gossip. When Pian‘s voice took on a tone both servile and arrogant Kashe grimaced.
―My lords, Oris Aken Re and Hebu Aken Re, has the daughter been found? I so desire to look in her face and claim her as my chief wife. The honor you offer humbles me.‖
The rotund priest‘s smile broadened. ―As yet we have not found her but the signs point to where she is hidden. When the auspicious hour arrives we will claim her.‖ He turned from Pian to the nomarch. ―You know the price.‖
The nomarch pointed to Kashe. ―My lords of Aken Re, this is Kashe, my middle son. He is skilled with weapons and has a vast knowledge of strategy. He will enter your temple as a priest.‖
Both men studied Kashe. Their gazes moved from his head to his feet. Embarrassment and shame over the avidity of their appraisal made him flush. He was not some piece of livestock or a slave to be purchased. A cauldron of anger bubbled.
Oris Aken Re rubbed his fleshy hands. ―Indeed, he is magnificent.‖
The thin priest‘s eyes narrowed. He addressed his companion in an unfamiliar language. ―Nomarch, he will do nicely,‖ he added.
Kashe wanted to rub his arms to ward off a sudden chill but he wouldn‘t allow the pair to see his distaste and fear. He kept his gaze steady and examined the thin priest. Hebu‘s eyes were serpent-like, dull and flat. Kashe‘s hands formed fists. Though Oris had been named as the chief priest, his companion was the more dangerous of the pair. Another thing became clear. Hebu belonged to the defeated enemy. Kashe had heard that language from a prisoner his father had brought to the compound as a slave.
Oris nodded. ―He will be the perfect battle leader for our men.‖
Pian made a face. ―He will be yours when I become pharaoh.‖
The nomarch shook his head. ―He will be theirs when I decree.‖
Kashe drew a deep breath. ―Father, I beg you to change your mind. I have no desire to serve in any temple. I‘m no scholar and have no knowledge of portents and omens. I‘ve no wish for easy living or in having my days ordered by rituals that allow no freedom.‖ He turned to leave.
His father grasped his arm. ―You will obey. Your sacrifice will undo all your willfulness and the shame your tainted heritage has brought to me. When this new moon completes the cycle you will enter the temple of Aken Re.‖
Though Kashe remained until the evening meal ended, his thoughts centered on finding a way to escape his father‘s command. He had to leave home but where would he go? He listened to his father, older brother and the priests as they made plans. Finding the missing daughter of the last pharaoh was their goal. The priests sought her. So did his father. The one who found her first would control the future of the Two Lands.
As soon as the meal ended Kashe retreated to his sleeping chamber. He had no desire to listen as more schemes were hatched and scenarios developed. He thought of escaping to his favorite beer house but not tonight. The entourage accompanying the priests was quartered on the roof of the house and in the garden. He had no desire to have his departure noted.
Kashe parted the beaded curtain and strode into his chamber. A pile of scrolls stood on the low table. He opened one and crushed the thin papyrus sheet. ―The Ways of Aken Re, the True and Only God.‖
Distaste curved his mouth into a scowl. He wanted to burn the scrolls or slash them to shreds. Not a good idea, he decided. Know your enemy. His mentor had repeated those words until they were engraved in Kashe‘s mind. Though Tuten had meant this advice for contests of arms Kashe believed they applied to his current situation. He would read the scrolls but not tonight. The crescent moon didn‘t provide enough light. Neither would the saucer lamp. He retired to bed for a night‘s sleep filled with dreams he wanted to forget.
For two days Kashe read. The contents of the scrolls disgusted him. The priests of Aken Re had diluted and twisted the teachings of the temples of the Two Lands and skewed them to fit their version of the world. They intended to make their god supreme. There were tales in the scrolls telling how Aken Re had defeated the ancient goddesses and gods of the Two Lands, major and minor and eaten their essences.
He finished the last scroll. What now? Did the rotund priest intend to remain here until the moon ended? The serpent-eyed one had vanished. Most of the entourage was now housed near the river. The departure of the strangers had relieved some of Kashe‘s fears. Not all, for he had no plan to escape the fate his father had decreed.
With a scowl he scooped the scrolls and carried them to the west loggia. There, he dumped them in a heap on one of the low tables. As he neared his chamber he heard two of the slaves speaking. Their gossip made him smile. The remaining priest planned to leave in two or three days.
Kashe returned to his chamber and went to the window. When a large hawk landed on the sill he stepped back. He stared at the avian. The bird made no attempt to attack. Kashe held out his arm. The hawk dropped a scroll and an amulet that landed on the floor with a click. The avian settled on Kashe‘s wrist cuff. He stared into its eyes.
―Horu,‖ Kashe said.
The hawk‘s head bobbed as though in answer. ―Horru.‖
Did hawks have names? ―I‘ll call you Horu Ba, soul of the god of the skies.‖ The bird returned to the window. Kashe picked up the gold amulet. A grin crossed his face as he read the hieroglyphics. ―Chosen of Horu.‖ Here was the perfect reason to refuse his father‘s plans for him. Would the nomarch and Pian accept the calling? Kashe was sure he would learn.
He lifted the scroll and read the words.
Three will come from afar, warrior, ruler and advisor will be joined by three from the Two Lands. United they will drive away those who seek to destroy the land and the people. Success brings prosperity. Failure means death. During the time when each pair works to complete their task they may not join flesh to flesh. Celibate they must remain until their quest ends lest disaster strikes the Two Lands.
He walked from his chamber into the central hall where the family and the priest had gathered for the evening meal. His father gestured. ―You‘ve been hiding in your chamber for days. Have you decided to obey?‖
Kashe shrugged. ―I‘ve been reading the scrolls. They‘re in the loggia. The words left me with no desire to become a priest of Aken Re. What I read sounded like lies.‖
Pian jumped to his feet. ―You will not usurp my place. I will be pharaoh. All the power and wealth of the double crown will be mine.‖
―I have no wish to rule or serve the priests.‖
The nomarch glared. ―You have been promised to them. Your battle skills will be needed to bring the stubborn people of this land to worship the one and only god.‖
Oris Aken Re smiled. ―You cannot resist. You are ours.‖
Kashe sucked in a breath. We‘ll see, he thought. The amulet burned against his chest. He leaned forward and wondered why they didn‘t see the medallion. Was it invisible for a reason? He ate and fled to his room. As he walked down the hall he heard the slap of sandals on the stone and braced for an attack.
―Kashe, you must listen to them,‖ his younger brother said. ―If you disobey Father, the priest will send serpents after you.‖
―Don‘t fret, little brother. Come to my chamber. I‘ve something to show you.‖ Kashe parted the curtains so Namose could enter first. ―This is why I can‘t go.‖ He held out the amulet. ―A hawk brought this to me.‖
Namose studied the gold circle. ―Chosen of Horu.‖ He looked up and gasped. ―At the window.‖
Kashe grinned and extended his arm for the bird. ―Horu Ba, this is Namose, my younger brother.‖ The hawk tilted his head. ―As you see I‘ve been selected by the god of the skies.‖
Namose nodded. ―And you will leave home.‖
―I believe I must.‖
―I want to go with you.‖ The youth‘s dark eyes held a plea. ―If you can‘t serve them I fear Father will send me or one of our sisters to their temple. The priests have a son or daughter from every nome except Mero in their service. They want Father and Pian to follow their orders. Our nome is the largest and richest of all. I don‘t trust the priests. If I must serve a god I would choose Toth, the god of wisdom.‖
Kashe looked away. Since he had no idea where to go, how he could take a boy who had just reached his fifteenth year? ―You must remain here until I can find a safe place. Then I will send for you.‖
―Do you mean that?‖
―Yes.‖ Kashe studied his younger brother. Here was the male member of the family with a strong knowledge of the land. If only their father didn‘t favor Pian. The oldest son was their father‘s favorite. Namose, the youngest, was ignored by the nomarch and favored by their mother.
―When are you going?‖
―Not tonight. I‘m going to a beer house to think.‖ He pushed Namose to the door.
―Better if you don‘t see me leave. If they discover I‘m out you can truthfully say you left me in my chamber.‖
Namose paused outside the curtain. ―Good thinking.‖
Kashe waited until his brother vanished before crossing to the window. He slipped out and crept across the garden to the rear gate. Once beyond the wall, the hawk landed on his wrist guard. Kashe strode to the riverside village. A few mugs of beer and a good fight might be an outlet for the energy coursing through his body.
Friday, July 22, 2011
Friday's Writer's Tip - Revision - 5 areas to be explored
Revision for a draft writer is a matter of layering. So once you have the rough draft down, what areas are needed for revision.
Characters - this means taking each character and studying if they have been developed to the fullest.
Dialogue - Do they characters all sound like the same person? Does what they say make sense? There are a number of ways to make what the characters say become meaningful.
Point of view - There are several schools on this. Some readers like the purist approach while others go from character to character. Sometimes this can cause a reader feel like they're watching a tennis match.
Showing versus telling - This is a big issue. Telling takes fewer words than showing but showing increases interest in the story.
Story and structure - This involves plot and also the way the story is told.
In the coming weeks each of these areas is address and questions and points to remember will be shown so each story will reach its potential.
Characters - this means taking each character and studying if they have been developed to the fullest.
Dialogue - Do they characters all sound like the same person? Does what they say make sense? There are a number of ways to make what the characters say become meaningful.
Point of view - There are several schools on this. Some readers like the purist approach while others go from character to character. Sometimes this can cause a reader feel like they're watching a tennis match.
Showing versus telling - This is a big issue. Telling takes fewer words than showing but showing increases interest in the story.
Story and structure - This involves plot and also the way the story is told.
In the coming weeks each of these areas is address and questions and points to remember will be shown so each story will reach its potential.
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